


Home

by Griddlebone



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mirosanta 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 11:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5624593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griddlebone/pseuds/Griddlebone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sango must make a difficult choice. A meandering little tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> A giftfic for ScribeFigaro for MiroSanta 2015.

Sango felt a welter of conflicting emotions as she followed Miroku and Kohaku down the road. Kohaku led the way, Kirara's tiny, kittenish form perched on one shoulder, leaving Miroku and Sango to trail along behind. Sango was perfectly happy to follow with only the monk for company. In fact, just glancing his way was enough to bring a smile to her lips and a blush to her cheeks.

The incandescent joy of walking beside this man, his right hand clasped loosely in her left during the furtive moments when no one might see, was enough to chase away the shadows of her other thoughts, at least for now. The shadows would return soon enough, so she allowed herself merely to exist in the moment with no thought of her destination. It was easier to take the journey one step at a time than to fully consider the fact that she was  _ going home _ .

It was a long walk without Kirara to carry them, but each step brought them that much closer. They were days out from Kaede's village now, and had left last night's inn far behind. The landmarks were growing more and more familiar to Sango's eyes with each hour that passed. The rise of an oddly shaped hill in the distance, the unusually large tree that had been growing beside the road since time immemorial, the cheerfully flowing river that passed by as the land began to slope upward into thick forest. The split in the road where they would leave the real road behind and follow the tiny, winding track the rest of the way to the village of her birth.

Afternoon was fading into evening by the time the outer wall came into view. With all of the trees and the winding path, the village did not appear until they were almost upon it. For a brief moment, Sango remembered this place as it had been a year ago: crowded, busy, alive with the scents and sounds of her people. The village was empty now, and silent save for a whisper of wind.

Sango paused, letting Kohaku go on ahead. Miroku came to a halt beside her, content to wait with her until she was ready. She had expected this to be difficult, but the strength of the emotion inside still caught her unawares.  _ Don't think about it _ had been enough to get her here, but she could avoid it no longer. The time had come to face it all, the pain and sorrow and the bitter loneliness.

Standing just outside the gate to the place that had once been her home, Sango wasn't sure she was up to the task.

For several long moments she hesitated, gathering courage and strength. In all that time the monk did not speak. He simply waited with her, lending his silent support.  _ I'm here for you, _ he said, without needing to say a word. She loved him and hated him at the same time for his perfect calm.

At last she stepped past the ruined gate and stood again within the village of her ancestors. This was not the first time she had returned to this place since the destruction that had slain her family and friends, but it was the first time she had come here with her brother and her intended husband. The first time since their victory over Naraku.

Miroku followed as she slowly made her way through the empty village, saying nothing but speaking volumes. The ringing of his staff, step by step, was a comforting rhythm as they approached the row of graves that lined one edge of the village. 

Kohaku was waiting there when they arrived, head bowed solemnly. Kirara wound her way around his ankles, looking just as forlorn as the boy.

Sango kept her distance. This was not something she could help him with. She could only try to be there for him, as Miroku had always been there for her.

She was not sure what she had expected to find here, but quiet sadness was not it. The bitterness had gone and in its place she felt an unexpected sense of peace. Tears came to her eyes as she knelt beside graves in need of tending, but they were not tears of sadness or loneliness.

_ I won, _ she thought, and hoped that her words would be heard by the souls of those buried here.  _ The one who caused this is dead. My battle is over. _ Her gaze shifted to where Miroku offered quiet prayers for the dead.  _ And now my life begins. _

The light was fading. They would have to tend to the graves in the morning.

They spent an uncomfortable night in the house that had once belonged to her family. Sango would have rather stayed just about anywhere else, but it was in the best shape of any of the buildings save the workshop. But when Kohaku suggested it, she knew she couldn't say no.

They made their fire and cooked their dinner outside under the stars, and that was where Sango stayed until late in the night. She was hardly conscious of Kohaku going to bed, or of Miroku sitting close beside her. Eyes closed, she tried to imagine what the village would be like if she tried to return and rebuild. If she tried hard enough, could she imagine her children being born and growing up in this place? Could she imagine Miroku living here? And what about Sango, herself?

It was so quiet, so empty, so isolated. So filled with memories...

And it would never be again what it had been before. Nothing she did would restore what had been lost.

"Sango." Miroku's voice pulled her slowly out of her imaginings. "Is everything all right?"

She ducked her head, a little embarrassed at having been caught so lost in her own thoughts. "Just thinking." Realizing that this was no help at all, she admitted, "Wondering what I ought to do about this place."

"Hm," he mused, and that was all the answer he gave her. They sat in companionable silence for a time, save for the occasional crackle and pop of the fire.

With Kohaku gone to bed, Miroku inched closer to her so that his leg rested against hers.

"I've been thinking about what Inuyasha and Kohaku said before we left," she told him, "and wondering if I'm making the right decision."

He offered a small smile.

Sango grimaced slightly. "What do  _ you  _ think?"

"I think that Inuyasha meant only that he is afraid we will leave him, too," he replied.

She nodded. "I know that." Knowing did not, however, make it easier to bear. Inuyasha had refused to join them on this trip, preferring to stay with Kaede and close to the Bone Eater's Well. Sango remembered all too well the hurt in his voice when he'd asked her the question --  _ aren't you slayers going to be on your way to rebuild your village soon? _ \-- and stormed off. That same evening, Kohaku had informed her that he wished to continue his training as a taiji-ya and would likely not remain for long in Kaede's village. He was heartsick over the evils he had caused, and training to become a strong taiji-ya was his way of making amends. Sango understood; she would have felt the same way. "And I know why Kohaku has made this decision, but…"

"You still feel troubled."

Another nod.

"About what Inuyasha said, or Kohaku?"

She took a moment to collect her thoughts. How could she explain to him why this bothered her so much?

"I never thought much about what would happen after Naraku was gone," she admitted. "It seemed like such a thing could never be. I thought if I set my heart on something, and then saw that future torn away from me –" she shuddered, thinking of how Miroku had come so near to death so many times "– I didn't know how I would bear it."

She sighed, surprised at how difficult it was to find the right words to explain what she felt. "After Naraku was defeated and the Shikon jewel destroyed, I thought I knew what I wanted. Now I'm not so sure."

He put his arm around her, encouraging her to lean against him. It was one of her favorite things, to sit like this with him. There was something deeply comforting about sitting quietly beside him. She sighed, letting the tension drain away.

The question of what to do in the coming months remained, of course, and with it all her doubts and fears. But those concerns no longer seemed so immediate. She would have time.  _ They _ would have time to consider their future. Together.

~

It still surprised Sango a little bit to wake each morning beside Miroku, though she was finally becoming accustomed to the closeness of sharing a blanket. Somehow the monk's steady presence, and the comforting sensation of his arms wrapped around her, made it easier to wake up in the crumbling remains of her former home and carry on with the difficult task that lay ahead.

There were so many graves that needed tending, and only the three of them to do it. They spent all day clearing the overgrown plants that had encroached upon the area around the graves, hauling rocks from the area around Midoriko's cave to build commemorative markers, and performing the proper rites for each of the deceased villagers. They were so few, to be tasked with remembering so many, but through it all Sango was grateful for Kohaku's quiet presence and the sound of Miroku's voice as he intoned prayers for the dead.

So many times she had feared that this would be left for her alone to do. Today she was conscious of just how lucky -- and how  _ not alone  _ \-- she was. The burden of remembrance would always be great, as great as the tragedy that had occurred here, but she would not have to bear it all on her own.

By evening the village was filled with the thick, pleasant scent of burning incense mixed with that of the simple dinner that Sango had cooked. She felt bittersweet, watching the flickering firelight as it fell on the two most important people in her life, knowing that in the morning they would go their separate ways. Kohaku and Kirara would return to Kaede's village, their first brief journey as a team, and Sango and Miroku would continue on to Mushin's temple.

She had been trying not to think about  _ that, _ just as she had tried not to think about the purpose of this trip to her village. She could not deny Kohaku this trip any more than she could fault him for seeking the only redemption available to him. But she could wish with all her heart that it was not necessary, so that was what she did.

Sleep eluded her until well into the night, long after they had gone inside and Miroku lay dozing beside her. She shared a knowing glance with Kirara, the only other one still awake, and then the nekomata padded over to snuggle in the crook of her neck. How many times had they slept just like this in this very place? Pretending there weren't tears in her eyes, she ruffled her fingers through the familiar, beloved fur. 

This would very likely be the last time they shared a night like this. They would leave in the morning, and then the village of the slayers would stand silent and empty once more.

~

Sango awoke to find midmorning sunlight streaming into the building where she lay. For a panicked moment her heart pounded frantically at finding herself utterly alone. As if sensing her fear, Kirara soon appeared in the doorway, sitting down in the sunlight with a soft, happy mew. Calming herself enough to listen, Sango could hear the sounds of her companions outside as they spoke in quiet tones. 

Not alone.

She joined Miroku and Kohaku outside a short while later for breakfast. The day was bright, sunny, relentlessly cheerful, despite the subdued pall that hung over the small group. This was a simple thing, a parting for a few days only, but to Sango it felt like everything was about to change. Again.

It seemed that her entire world had only just been turned on its head with Naraku's defeat, and now it was about to happen all over again when Kohaku and Kirara left.

They were in no real hurry today, and it was past midday before they had packed all of their things, checked on the graves one last time, and walked out the gate.

_ It's not forever _ , she told herself as she and Miroku followed Kohaku down the path and away from the village. They had a way to go yet together before their paths would part, but already it felt like two piece of her soul had been stolen away.

When they at last came to the crossroads, Sango supposed she should be glad that Kohaku had walked this far with them when he and Kirara could have simply left the village of the slayers by air. She managed a dry-eyed and smiling farewell, waving to her brother and her former partner until they had rounded a bend and passed out of sight. But she couldn't help a dejected sigh after that. She had not thought, truly, that it would hurt so much to see him go.

Her head drooped, her shoulders sagged. Miroku said nothing, but was simply  _ there. _ His arms enfolded her, pulling her to him, letting her hide her face against his shoulder.

"I'm okay," she insisted, and let him hold her for a while anyway.

~

Sango tried not to blush as she glanced toward Miroku. She could not explain, even to herself, why she felt so shy just walking beside this man. Even when she wasn't sneaking glances at him, she couldn't seem to help thinking about the events of the past several days. Although, she could admit, it might be more honest to say the past few  _ nights _ .

In truth, it was the nights that stuck in her memory more than anything else, intruding on even the most unrelated thoughts as they made the trip from the ruined village to Mushin's temple. Without Kirara to carry them it was a trip of a few days, and they were in no hurry. While Miroku was eager to bring news of his victory to his mentor and friend, Mushin would have no idea that they were coming at all and would not be expecting them.

If Miroku chose to use this as an excuse to take their time and enjoy the time spent alone together, Sango was not going to complain. In fact, the sense of shared adventure helped take her mind off the fact that Kohaku was far away where she could not protect him. She knew that he was safe so long as he was with Kirara, and that he was more than capable of looking after himself, but a part of her was still very much his worried big sister. But somehow the nights spent alone with Miroku managed to be more distracting even than her sisterly fears.

She had been painfully aware of her dangerous attachment to Miroku long before now. But she had not been quite aware of just how precarious their attraction was until suddenly there was nothing standing between them. His curse defeated, her family avenged, their shared enemy defeated, there was nothing stopping them from fulfilling the promise they had made. And so they had done just that. And they renewed that promise nearly every night. She felt a little bit guilty that Miroku could so easily distract her from her fears for her brother, but it was also a relief to find such easy happiness after everything she had been through.

She was so thoroughly distracted by that same happiness, and the memory of a night spent making love to her intended husband under the open sky, that she tripped over a root that protruded into the path and would have fallen on her face if Miroku had not steadied her.

"Sango, are you all right?" he asked sweetly, teasing. "This isn't like you."

She swatted at the arm that had insinuated itself around her waist. "Maybe if you hadn't kept me up all night," she retorted, "I'd be able to see straight."

"Is that so?" His voice was all impish innocence. "I shall endeavor to behave myself tonight, then."

She frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

He was already laughing as he pulled her close, knowing she would turn to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss.

Then again, she thought, maybe Miroku wasn't the only one doing the distracting.

It was probably a good thing that they weren't in any hurry.

~

Mushin's temple was as quiet and nearly as empty as the village of the slayers had been. Sango had never known the temple to be anything but quiet and remote, and for that reason the sense of isolation here was less oppressive to her than it had been at the village. For Sango, the temple was almost pleasant, in its own quiet way. For Miroku, however...

She followed silently into the bowl-shaped depression that was his father's grave and stood beside him with head bowed as he paid his respects, wishing that she had the knowledge and understanding to comfort him as easily as he comforted her. Was it enough just for her to be here beside him today? Was he hurting the way she had at her village? What did it mean to him, to stand here where his father had died, freed of his family's curse, with the woman who would be his wife standing at his side?

It had never been easy to discern Miroku's true feelings, and that was one thing that had not changed much in the days since their victory, although it was slowly beginning to change. She could ask, she knew, and he would tell her... but now was not the time to ask. There would be time for that later.

Miroku seemed somehow lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, as they climbed out of the basin and went in search of Mushin. Sango half expected to find the old monk passed out somewhere with a bottle of sake in his hand, but it was still early enough in the day that he was conscious, though it took them a while to track him down in one of the temple's storerooms where he was taking stock of supplies. For once, Mushin seemed truly happy to see Miroku.

He took one look at the two of them where they stood in the doorway and asked, "You have succeeded, then?"

"The curse is lifted," Miroku told him, and his voice wavered ever so slightly with what Sango realized was barely contained joy.

"And the woman?" Mushin prodded, with a nod of his head toward Sango.

"Sango has agreed to marry me and bear my children." There was such smug pride in his voice when he said it that it was all Sango could do not to blush -- or roll her eyes.

"Huh," the old monk mused, his quiet thoughtfulness a stark contrast to Miroku's increasingly obvious elation. "Who'd have thought she'd actually say yes?"

~

Later, after the story of Naraku's demise and the days that followed had been shared, Sango wandered the temple grounds on her own. There was much that Miroku wanted to discuss with his old mentor, and Sango did not want to intrude. And besides, she had much to think about, herself. Walking the quiet paths between the main temple and its several outbuildings helped to clear her mind.

She was grateful that she now had the luxury of time and solitude in which to weigh her options. During the trip to the village of the slayers and their subsequent journey to this temple, she had done her best to set aside thoughts of the future and to focus only on the present. With Miroku's death no longer imminent and her brother finally safe, it hadn't truly been that difficult. But a part of her had been aware the whole time that she would eventually need to turn her thoughts forward, to the future. And now, at least, she had the opportunity to do so in peace.

For the first time since Naraku's demise, she did not shy away from uncertain thoughts of the future. She allowed herself to wonder, turning the thoughts over and over in her mind, hoping to forge a plan out of them.

What would it be like to live in her village again after all this time? Sango had wondered often, but after this visit it was no longer a cheering thought, especially when juxtaposed with the lively vitality of Kaede's village. She remembered the village of the slayers now not as it had been in her youth, but as it had been when she departed with Miroku so recently: silent and empty, home only to the spirits of the dead. 

If she returned now to begin her life with Miroku, it would be little better. It might even be worse. Returning would not restore Father or any of the others to life. Even when she had children of her own and those children started to grow up, the village would be far too big and empty and isolated for them.

Sango was no stranger to hard work, but she could already foresee the challenges living in such isolation would present. They would have to spend much of their time on the road, using their skills as monk and youkai taiji-ya to obtain the everyday necessities they would need to get by. Food. Clothing. Money. The ingredients needed to concoct the various potions and powders she used in her trade. 

And it would only get worse once they had children in need of care. She knew that she and Miroku could make it work somehow, but she couldn't imagine him choosing such a life. Not now, not when he was finally not a threat to everyone around him, when he no longer needed to isolate himself for fear of causing harm to others.

So she would cherish the dream of the village one day restored, but that was all it might ever be. She was not fool enough to think she could repopulate an entire village all by herself, even with Miroku's ambitions to father ten or even twenty children. 

For now, she could finally admit even to herself, she had a different vision for her future.

What Inuyasha and Kohaku did not seem to realize, she mused, was that it was not the  _ village _ that had made the slayers what they were. It was the  _ people _ that lived there, and the knowledge and traditions held by those people, knowledge and traditions that Sango had brought with her when she left. Wherever she was, she was confident that her children could grow up to be slayers just as she had. It would not be easy, not without Father and his warriors or the village elders to help with teaching and training, but she could do it.

And, in the end, it didn't matter what Inuyasha said or what Kohaku planned to do. It startled her to realize it so clearly and powerfully, but she could not start her family in that dead and silent village. Maybe, one day, when the children were older...

But she would walk that path when she reached it.

There remained, of course, the question of what Miroku wanted to do. This was not her decision to make alone. She almost did not want to confront him about it, though she knew that she must. She was not sure whether she was more afraid that he would agree with Inuyasha and Kohaku, or that he wouldn't.

Inuyasha would come around eventually, no matter what she decided. He might grumble, but in the end, he would be happy to have her and Miroku around, or not, as they chose.

Kohaku, however…

She knew this choice might cost her Kohaku. Without the village to use as a home base, it seemed very likely that he would choose to travel widely, seeking to hone his skills in the field and to help as many people as he could along the way. Her heart ached to think that she had gone through so much, had struggled against such impossible odds, to get him back safely and now she intended to let him go all over again. But how could she do otherwise? He had his own destiny to find, and his own redemption. And she would have to accept that she might not be a part of that.

~

It was late by the time they returned to the small room that would be theirs for the duration of their stay. Sango was tired after the day's activities, but knew that she needed to have a serious conversation with Miroku -- and that she wasn't likely to get much of a chance to talk to him alone once they returned to Kaede's village. The thought of discussing this with Miroku made her more than a little nervous, mostly because she was not entirely sure what to expect.

When they were finally alone, she began, "Miroku..."

"Yes, Sango?" 

"There's something I want to talk to you about," she told him.

He was silent, looking at her expectantly.

"It's about what we should do next, now that things are settling down. What our plans should be. Where we should live."

"Have you come to any conclusions about that?" he inquired.

"That's why we need to talk. You haven't said anything about it all this time," she observed. "Everyone else wanted to tell me what they thought I should do. But you've always avoided the subject. What would  _ you _ have me do?"

"This is your choice, Sango," he explained. "I do not want you to make it because of something I may or may not have said."

She appreciated his trust in her judgment, but would have appreciated his input even more. After all, this was a decision that would affect more than just her. This would decide the course of their future together.

"Could my village ever be your home?" she asked, exasperation coloring her voice.

For a long moment he did not answer her. She did not know which she feared more, that he would say yes or that he might say no. And then his hands cupped her face. His eyes met hers. And with perfect calm he told her, "I have spent my entire life wandering. I don't ever remember having a place to call home. But you, Sango, you feel like home to me. Wherever you are is where I choose to be."

Sango flushed to the roots of her hair, her face heating in a painfully obvious blush. Did he really mean all that? The sweetness of his smile only made the blushing worse. "Have I sufficiently astonished you, my love?" he asked.

She couldn't help smiling back.

"If you want to return to your village to start our life together, then that is what we will do. If you want to stay in Kaede's village, I would be happy there, too, so long as that was where you were." He paused, grinning. "If you told me you wanted to live in a hut in the middle of nowhere, just the two of us, so we didn't have to pay taxes, I would agree to that, too."

There was something in his voice just then that compelled her to kiss him, or maybe it was just the desire to shut him up before he could spout any more ridiculous suggestions. 

She felt him smile against her lips and in that moment she felt it too: this feeling, more than any village, this was home. There was reassurance in that kiss, and the knowledge it had provoked. Whatever they did next, wherever they went, they would be okay. There was heat in that kiss, as well, and this had an immediate effect on her. So much so that Sango wondered if this man she had chosen to spend her life with was having a bad influence on her already.

Ultimately, she decided as she worked the knots that secured his clothing, she didn't care. Because he was right about something: wherever he was, that was where she wanted to be. Whether that was the village of her childhood or Kaede's village or somewhere else altogether, wherever they were together, that was home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely satisfied with this one yet and expect that I'll be revisiting it in the future.


End file.
